The Man in Seat 96

Side Streets Bratislava

2011-11-10T09:00:00.000-08:00

Bratislava Castle, Redeux

2011-11-01T12:10:00.000-07:00

Castles are not supposed to change colors, or at least that is what I had always assumed. Though, I am often mistaken, as I witness the ever present effects of change, this time in the form of Bratislava's castle (Bratislavský hrad), on the hill above the old city and the Danube River.

So I should not be surprised that the castle is now a shade of white. Biely.

Svatopluk I now greets castle visitors.

In addition to the castle's color change, a new statue has appeared as well, a figure from the region's past -- way past, back to the late 9th century. (Svatopluk I was an early medieval Moravian ruler.) And even the statue, though rather new, has undergone a bit of cosmetic surgery. Of course there is a story behind the color change and re-ornamentation, which goes beyond simple restoration. And it proves a lively discussion, if one chooses to casually broach the topic. It is a complex tale and I am sure I have not been able to grasp the entire scope of the forces at work or play, for this or broader issues -- the ever present, ever active active social, cultural, political currents which permeate human endeavors everywhere.

Perhaps the castle redeux is just that -- a hint of latent nationalism, fidgeting beneath the surface.

Bratislava Castle, before its reconstruction.

Somewhere in Austria

2011-10-31T23:30:00.000-07:00

Another day, another train ride, alone. Unintentionally ... bogart ...

Bratislava's UFO

2011-10-15T20:19:00.000-07:00

For better or worse, this is one of the visuals which is forever stamped into one's mind during a first visit to Bratislava. Previously known as the "New Bridge" (built to span the Danube in 1973), it's more commonly called the "UFO" -- perhaps official now given the name of the establishment which occupies the restaurant and observation deck on top. (For more information, visit the restaurant's website, www.redmonkeygroup.com). It certainly has an alien look to it. When I queried a few friends I was apologetically told, with a degree of local disdain, that the design was a "eye sore", the saucer-shaped restaurant was "awful" and therefore not worth my time. Of course, I then had to go and see for myself.

I went, and -- as instructed by the sign at the entrance to the elevator up -- I did watch, though I passed on the taste part. My experience has been these kinds of restaurants serve average food at much higher than average price. I could possibly be very wrong since the staff's dress, manner and the few plates I witnessed emerge from the kitchen were all upscale -- though my concern was confirmed by the prices listed on the menu. As for the groove part, one can't escape the pounding Euro-tech music which prevails just about in every public establishment in Central and Eastern Europe. Meaning, since I am a bit accustomed to it now, I was not bothered to groove.

I still wonder if it was worth the 6 EUR admittance fee for the elevator ride and the time spent on the observation deck. As I recount my mid-day visit, on a breezy summer afternoon, it was relaxing -- the views from inside the restaurant and the observation deck captivating. So I guess yes, at least once.

Note the placement of the music speakers throughout the restaurant.

The view upstream of the Danube River west, towards Vienna.

The view of the Danube River, looking east, downstream.

The view south, looking away from Bratislava towards Hungary.

The view north into Old Town Bratislava.

Autobusová Stanica, Bratislava

2011-10-01T18:25:00.000-07:00

Anyone traveling in Europe who does not take advantage of public transportation pays a price -- economically and culturally. I rely on trains, buses and trams to get around, avoiding the cost and perceived convenience of a "for hire" car. I've rented or hired my share of cars and taxis abroad but now prefer public modes, since the one-hour bus ride between Vienna and Bratislava (about 35 miles or 55 kilometers) is much cheaper than a 15-minute cab ride in either city (several miles or kilometers in traffic).

Public transportation in Europe has evolved to a point of where it is a natural part of the land or cityscape -- using it is second nature.

For example, one can easily mistake Bratislava's bus station (autobusová stanica) for some other activity -- its plain functional façade hides the goings on inside and behind. (For the foreign observer, there are many similar buildings, providing shelter for an array of services, indistinguishable without a little investigation.) There is not a whole lot of glamour and glitz expended on such structures, though they do seem to operate well, and in the case of transportation, are very punctual. Of course, if one can read the local language, signs plainly say it all.

Recently I noticed that many of the inter city buses now have on board Wi-Fi (for the curious, checkout www.orangeways.com -- their buses appear to be very popular with the "backpacking, explorer, on to the next city" crowd). I was pleased to be able to pick up and surf the Internet while I was next to an Orangeway bus (obviously marked Wi-Fi capable).

Although the Vienna-Bratislava buses are not yet so equipped, they are decent and comfortable. Efficient.

Podhradie

2011-09-15T13:54:00.000-07:00

Time is cruel to architectural periods. This is certainly true when considering the history of a part of Bratislava known as Podhradie. (Pod is literally translated as under, hrad as castle -- it is also noted in guides as the "outer bailey".) Podhradie is an area outside the old city walls to the west, on the foothill below Bratislava's castle. It was an independent town until 1851, though most of it surely succumbed to this incorporation and the construction of what is known as the New Bridge and its freeway in 1973. (There now is a newer bridge a short distance away downstream, recently completed.)

However, there are a few glimpses of what must have been -- the best example is the Good Sheperd House, a nicely preserved example of Rococo architecture. Its construction, under the auspices of a notable local builder, began in 1760 and was completed in 1765. Originally built with commercial intent at street level, with living quarters upstairs, the building now is a part of the Town Museum and houses an interesting collection of 17th to late 19th century clocks, most produced by local clockmakers.

It is also fitting that the builder's commercial intent remains -- the ground floor serves as a pub.

Democracy in the East

2011-09-01T06:00:00.000-07:00

I am not sure if it is reassuring that democracy finds its messy way when and wherever it is put into practice. Here, recent political commentary I witnessed in the Slovak Republic on a temporary construction zone wall.

"Voters, thank you, you are awesome"

(Note the references to the USSR)

Bratislava's Hydrofoil

2011-08-15T14:45:00.000-07:00

Most westerners who visit the former Eastern Bloc, skirting behind what was once known by Winston Churchill's tag as the Iron Curtain, expect to see a good degree of Soviet influence. That influence is rapidly fading as many of the former Warsaw Pact countries are now a part of NATO and the European Union. Yes, modernizing quickly to western standards.

However, there are a few surviving remnants. One of these, which daily navigates the Danube River between Bratislava and Vienna, is the Rocket Speedboat, a vintage Soviet-era built hydrofoil. Its labors originate at the Personal Ship Port at Bratislava's Fajnorovo Nabrezie Embankment and arrive at the Schiffstation Reichsbruecke at Handelskal 265. It's a 105 minute upstream journey from Bratislava to Vienna and a 90 minute downstream return (information, schedule and booking www.lod.sk).

Once observed, you'll immediately recognize the Soviet styling and the Soviet disregard for aesthetics -- in this case an absolute abundance of noise.

Ganymede's Fountain

2011-08-01T09:30:00.000-07:00

I have lost track of how many disappointing travel tales I've encountered over the years, the retelling of an American's awful experience in Europe. Yes, there are similarities and differences -- the good, the bad, the ugly. No doubt we all have our own values and tastes -- and though Europe is different, I'm glad to be back on "the continent", to once again observe and partake.

Although, I must admit it is easy to miss the small things. I know of the Slovak National Theater and Opera House in Bratislava and have walked by it and its fountain many times. On this pleasant August day, I meandered a bit near the fountain -- trying to decide where and how to spend the afternoon -- and for the first time really paid attention to the theater's façade and its fountain.

The Slovak National Theater's Ganymede Fountain is a welcoming sight and I wonder if this is what its creator had in mind. He or she was a native Bratislavan and the fountain was sculpted sometime after the construction of the building began in 1885. Though I find Greek mythology rather disheveled, with alternate stories and interpretations, I do recall Ganymede's role as a symbol of eternal youth, immortality and the official cup bearer to the gods.

Perhaps in this time and place, Ganymede and his fountain are a symbol of local hospitality. Unfortunately, Bratislava is not favorably reviewed as are a Prague, Budapest or Vienna -- and it is often bypassed for more famed destinations. It is a bit of a shame as there is a unique environment in Bratislava and most do not realize the area was once a favorite Hapsburg retreat.

I sense that subtle beckoning is still here, scattered about in small doses, awaiting discovery -- Ganymede's enduring gift. I certainly feel at ease to loiter here.

Paratus

2011-07-15T01:07:00.000-07:00

One anecdote which exemplifies ancient Roman wisdom is the advice that "victory likes careful preparation" -- paratus, to be exact. Paratus for travel shares this wisdom, if only as "an enjoyable holiday likes careful preparation".

I recently crossed paths with a Austrian-German couple about to embark on a 5-week bicycle tour of the Danube River -- from a location near its source, all the way to the Black Sea. I was amazed by how carefully they had planned and prepared for their trip, with the anticipation of encountering weather's impact on their progress, as well as finding reasonable accommodations for any given day. One couple, two bikes, and airline tickets to return from Bucharest. Every day an adventure, with a new set of opportunities to explore and problems to solve.

As I am preparing for another European excursion, I'm newly inspired to take a different cultural approach to travel. We Americans tend to travel differently, unafraid to cast about an excess of funds for assured amenities and convenience. And we tend to drag along robust baggage trains with a variety of accoutrement -- we take "home" along with us.

This time, inspired by today's economic climate and my European friends, it's me and my backpack.

Rome's Pantheon

2011-06-01T11:00:00.000-07:00

For me, it was not easy to realize the Pantheon is the oldest standing domed structure in Rome. It is in remarkably good shape for its age -- the original structure is over 2000 years old -- and it remains the largest un-reinforced concrete dome in the world. The credit goes to Roman architects and engineers and their expert use of concrete coffering.

The Pantheon's coffers, employed to lighten the weight of the dome, were poured in molds prior to being set in place; the oculus further reduces the structure's weight and admits the building's only light. The oculus also cools and ventilates the Pantheon. As one stands inside and admires the dome, it is natural to ponder the effects of bad weather. The Pantheon’s builders anticipated this phenomenon -- a drainage system below the floor handles any intruding rainfall.

Built in 31 BC during the reign of Augustus, it originally was as a temple dedicated to all the gods of Ancient Rome (hence the name pantheon). It was restored in the second century AD after being completely destroyed by fire in 80 AD. The building's consecration as a Roman Catholic church in the 7th century certainly saved it from the abandonment, destruction and decay which befell the majority of ancient Rome's buildings during the Middle Ages.

Fortunately, the marble interior and the great bronze doors have survived. Sadly, as is common with ancient structures, most of the external marble was removed over the centuries. The bronze ceiling of the portico disappeared. The sunken coffers may have contained some form of bronze ornamentation. There are even capitals from the Pantheon in the British Museum. Carried away, now held hostage.

It is interesting how our mental images of the past are influenced by modern observation of an ancient structure’s skeletal remains. Some of these sites have elements which survive apart, scattered in various museums and private collections throughout the world. Can we not return surviving antiquities to their places of origin, restore at least a part of their long lost splendor? How does one undo events in the past which we would not allow today? History cannot be undone one way or another, even if rewritten. Still, the present does offer the opportunity to address such situations.

Most discussions ultimately are about time, solutions never seriously broached. Certainly this is one real Pandora's Box -- realized at a nearby café, as hordes of pigeons settle and shift, traffic noise and children's voices echo about, and the march of Prada and Gucci keeps perfect time in the shadow of Imperial Rome. A street performer stops to invade, playing a guitar missing at least one string. Pay and rescue the moment -- please move along and rejoin the parade.

Time for another espresso -- posso avere un espresso, per favore.

Maypole

2011-05-01T05:00:00.000-07:00

Maypoles (maibaum), a Germanic tradition, are not easily missed. As I've frequented West and Central European towns and villages, they are prominent in village squares during the late spring. There was quite a gathering around this one in Graz, Austria. So I had to ask -- what's going on? What's with the pole?

I was informed May Day, with its requisite maypole, is a public event centered on a town or village "happening". The annual appearance of a maypole normally occurs either on the eve of the first day of May or the first day itself. As a centuries old tradition, this may include a village procession or parade with much music and spectating. I had missed the Graz parade and it was well after May Day; maypoles apparently stay in place for a month or longer. On this particular spring day, I did observe many eating sausage and drinking beer, though this may be mere coincidence. These are notable activities on just about any nice European day.

In other towns and villages, I've noticed erected maypoles adorned with empty bottles -- no doubt garnishment borne of a working gang's thirst, accoutrements required to select, deliver and stand a carefully prepared tree. I can only speculate the bottles once held pomp and circumstance in the form of vodka, schnapps, borovica, or slivovica.

I'm not surprised theories abound around the symbolism of the maypole and its varied decorations, with much speculation tied to some long lost pagan tradition -- similar to those which align behind the Christmas tree. I certainly have produced my own plethora of hypothetical explanations. Oh, Tannenbaum.

I was also informed that during the night of the last day of April, many a young man ventures into the woods, selects an appropriate tree, strips it of most its branches (except for the top), decorates it with his identifying "colors" and then erects it in front of a potential girlfriend's abode. For established pairings, it is custom to find a flowering fruit tree, under which to exchange a symbolic kiss -- Nature's calling for all to join in regeneration. It is at this point some theorists invite Sigmund Freud on in for comment.

From my point of view, the variable with May Day and maypoles is the application of local custom. The constant seems to be man's need to be in a recurring mode of celebration -- this being just another one of many.

Seville's Holy Week

2011-04-15T15:10:00.000-07:00

I must admit I am generally uncomfortable witnessing a Spanish festival for the first time. As I expect these to be driven by local tradition, I find myself investigating the nature and context of this tradition, as most festival elements are naturally unfamiliar. Seville's Holy Week -- given the hooded processions of Catholic brotherhoods, Nazarenos -- was no different.

Semana Santa en Sevilla is one of Spain's largest religious events. Conducted during the week between Palm Sunday and Easter, it features daily processions by brotherhoods parading pasos -- floats featuring sculptured scenes of Jesus Christ during distinct phases of his death and resurrection; the other being a float with a grieving Virgin Mary. Many are considered masterful works of art and are housed in nearby churches.

Most brotherhoods carry two floats, a few carry three. The processions are organized and conducted by over 50 religious fraternities (some dating back to the 14th century) and the processional itinerary is scheduled by a Supreme Council of Brotherhoods. During the processions, members dressed in hooded penitential robes, precede the pasos, with an occasional brass band accompanying the march. The processions work along the shortest route from their home church to the Cathedral of Seville -- routes decreed since the 17th century by the processions' rule of ordinances. They then return to their points of origin, some taking over 12 hours.

If you're in need of a touring tip, the first part of Seville's Holy Week is not as crowded for procession viewing and is more relaxed. Towards the end of the week as many as a million spectators crowd Seville's streets. The climax of the week is Thursday night when the most popular processions set out to arrive at the cathedral on the dawn of Good Friday.

I still find myself comparing this tradition with some darker elements of America's past -- and the influence and context of signs and symbols, proliferating one's culture. Comparing American and Spanish cultures, the hooded parading participant signifies two very different role and purpose. Penitence. Malfeasance. In this case, the shame is on us.

St. Stephen's Cathedral

2011-04-01T23:00:00.000-07:00

Numerous times I have roamed inside, outside, and underneath St. Stephen’s Cathedral in Vienna, Austria. (Yes, there are catacombs beneath which date back to the era of the Black Plagues which devastated Europe -- and Vienna for that matter -- throughout the 14th century.) For the dedicated and patient observer, this religious icon has an overabundance of stories to tell.

St. Stephen's Cathedral (Stephansdom in German), the dominant structure of Vienna and her Stephansplatz, is more than a cathedral -- she is an enduring grand matriarch, for centuries hosting the seat of the Archbishop of Vienna and his Archdiocese. Given her Romanesque and Gothic prowess, St. Stephen's is a living monument not only to historic periods but to specific historic events.

St. Stephen’s was initiated primarily by Rudolph IV, one of the initial progenitors of the Habsburg dynasty. (Termed centuries later by historians as the Holy Roman Empire, did this unique family consider themselves either holy or Roman? Such questions fuel the engines which drive late night reading and debate.) It stands on the ruins of at least two earlier churches, the first being a parish church consecrated in the mid-12th century. Archaeological evidence suggests it stands on the site of a Roman cemetery, implying the site has had some form of religious significance for at least 2000 years -- if not longer.

By the way, Marcus Aurelius passed away in Vienna. His son Commodus was present and the dead Caesar was quickly cremated and deified. Could this act of ancient Roman pomp and circumstance have occurred on or near the site of the present cathedral? We’ll never know. We do know his ashes found their way back to and remained in Rome until it was sacked in 410 by the Visigoths -- lost forever to eternity.

Arguably, Stephansdom is a living monument to the evolution of at least a part of Christianity in Europe, albeit a millennium after the birth, death and resurrection of Christ. Its initial dedication was witnessed by German nobles who were departing on the Second Crusade; it also was the site of a rallying sermon to muster a later crusading effort to defend Christian Europe from Muslim invaders. (The Theresian Military Academy's chapel, just south of Vienna, contains Holy Land relics brought by returning crusaders.)

Perhaps ironically, St. Stephen's also served as the main watch tower and military command post for the defense of Fortress Vienna during both sieges by the Ottoman Turks (1529, 1683). Congratulations, Prince Eugene of Savoy, ye who liberated central Europe from 150 years of Ottoman occupation -- implications of which still surface as Turkey pursues European Union membership. Is not Austria's reluctance to accept Turkey's overtures to Europe then understandable? Outside the cathedral there is an 18th century statue depicting St. Francis triumphantly trampling a defeated Turk. Oh my. Did anyone bother to clear this with the founding Franciscan?

Later, as a few German nobles and their men were leaving Vienna in the spring of 1945, St. Stephen’s was ordered destroyed, to be left “in just debris and ashes”. Providence, however, was manifest in the form of an officer who refused to follow these orders -- due to either his reverent upbringing or a simple, honest intellect. Again, we'll never really know. Unfortunately, the cathedral's roof did collapse, alight, though most of its internal treasures were spared. Flames had spread from nearby shops and torched St. Stephen's roof, started by civilian looters during the interlude between fleeing German troops and advancing Russian forces.

It is interesting how Vienna managed to spare most of its historic icons during the war -- Eugene of Savoy's massive statue at Heldenplatz was encased in brick to avoid damage from Allied bombing raids; Fredrick III's sarcophagus inside St. Stephan’s was also provided such protection. Someone was apparently aware that intentional human destruction permeates and dominates the world's historical record.

St. Stephen's is also a cultural casserole -- over time various local influences have left their mark, such as common modern graffiti. Building stones from unknown Roman structures were used and are visible in the oldest parts of the cathedral (the two Roman towers and the west wall). Over the main entrance to the church, the Giant’s Door (Riesentor), there once hung a mastodon bone. (Where did that come from?) A zodiac adorns the main facade. There are official measuring standards, used during the Middle Ages to set local standards for merchants, embedded in the external walls. The cathedral's largest and main bell was cast from captured Ottoman cannons. And the handrail of the stairway leading up to the stone pulpit is adorned with biting lizards and toads, symbolizing the struggle of good against evil. At the top, a dog guards those that are in place to preach. (I'm still trying to sort through the numerous symbols found in St. Stephen's -- to include the grim skeletal representations apparently borne of the bleak plague period.) St. Stephen's was also Mozart's parish church at the end of his life -- he was married, two of his children were baptized, and his funeral was conducted here. He also served as an adjunct parish music director.

Christendom’s cathedrals are historic and best placed in context. In my opinion, St. Stephen's is one of the best. Grasping historic context, however, is a tremendous challenge. As I have often sat in a St. Stephen's pew, I am occasionally drawn to reflect upon the meaning and context of Jesus' 1st century pronouncement of the Kingdom of Heaven -- and the enduring theological, political and cultural struggles between those who accept, reject or reinterpret Jesus' core message.

For me, St. Stephen's is a complex, physical manifestation of this ongoing social phenomenon. I highly recommend you give exploring this cathedral a "go".

Seek and ponder historical context.

Graffito, Seville

2011-03-21T19:45:00.000-07:00

Honoring Salvador Dali. Most appropriate.

Bonaventure Cemetery

2011-03-15T09:05:00.000-07:00

In an obscure way, Bonaventure Cemetery defines Savannah -- it is a complex, wonderful, yet haunting place. As Savannah is rich in culture, so is this burial place. As cemeteries are solemn in nature, Bonaventure seems even more so. On a warm breezy afternoon, strolling amongst the headstones and mausoleums, shaded by moss-filled trees, one does not feel alone. They are here -- whispers.

Prior to my first visit, a friend suggested I read Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil as preparation. I did. And thanks to my friend's advice, Savannah came to life before my visit -- and so remains. I am now hooked on sweet tea and grits. Collard greens. Pre-Revolutionary, Revolutionary, Civil War history. Southern culture, antebellum mansions, low country boil.

Now if you're familiar with Midnight, you'll know who or what the "Bird Girl" is. If not, she is a bronze statue which used to stand within the Trosdal family plot at Bonaventure -- and was popularized on the cover of the book. Due to family concerns about increasing foot traffic at the grave site, the "Bird Girl" was removed and now stands in Savannah's Telfair Museum of Art.

All is not lost, however. Even with celebrity departed, Bonaventure's varied and distinct statuary, though nameless, remains alluring, profound -- unique amongst American cemeteries. Each appears ready to deliver a personal predestined message, awaiting re-acquaintance with family and friends. Even discovery by the curious. Yes, welcome tourists.

Bonaventure Cemetery is a large, sprawling site, with its historic section located along the bank of the Wilmington River. Here, marked burials date back to the early 1800s. It is also assumed French soldiers are buried on the grounds, pre-dating the 1800s, since they occupied the site during the Revolutionary War. Their assault on British troops in Savannah did not actually go well, their retreat hasty. Certainly some passed into eternity and remain, sans mémorial, in Savannah's Elysium.

Bonaventure Cemetery is a place which I must visit, drawn to stoically, when I'm in or around Savannah. With the resting dead, life is here. This place talks, these stones talk -- to me, at me. Not audibly, of course. But here, the conversations are ongoing -- everywhere. Endless stories, eliciting a full range of mental images and subsequent emotions -- all trying to connect with some form of coherent meaning. Birth, life, death -- at its conclusion, always much too abrupt. I cannot help but sense all hope lies here as well, anticipating resurrection.

Monuments. Statues. Whispers. Or is it just me?

Ancient Street, Pompeii

2011-03-01T18:50:00.000-08:00

Although Pompeii is a ruined and partially buried Roman city, accidentally rediscovered in 1748 and now excavated, there is no doubt its streets are frozen in time -- since 24 August 79 AD. 1900-plus years later, we can contemplate Roman road construction, engineering.

I was initially impressed by the street scape of Pompeii as not being much different than those one may encounter throughout European centrums today -- the stone and cobblestone workmanship of the streets.

The oddity was wheel grooves, an obviously indicator Pompeii's streets were adequately accommodating its robust wheeled traffic. These street were constructed in a way to elevate foot traffic above the road's surface for water runoff, perhaps even sewage. Roman architects and engineers managed water and sewage quite well, though not necessarily in the open, in the streets. There are many examples of drainage pipes beneath the surface, some still operational. Not only is the water distribution system in Pompeii impressive, it reveals a great degree of forethought and urban planning.

Could the strength of the Roman Empire, at least in part, be borne of its engineering prowess?

Unfortunately, as all ancient excavations experience, renewed exposure to the elements hastens deterioration. In tight financial times, seeking funds to protect these sites is a low priority. Thus, the curious observer should visit sooner rather than later.

Spandau Prison

2011-02-15T17:55:00.000-08:00

I witnessed Spandau Prison, at the time located in West Berlin, during a helicopter tour of the city in 1986. Rudolf Hess was the lone prisoner and unbeknownst to me or anyone else at the time, he had a year to live. After his death, the prison was demolished as a means to prevent it from becoming a Neo-Nazi shrine. But the West Germans did not stop there. To further ensure its erasure, the site was made into a parking facility and a shopping center, and all materials from the demolished prison were ground to powder and dispersed into the North Sea.

I'm a bit sad -- it was a magnificent structure, even as a prison. Built in 1876, it initially served as a military detention center and later housed civilian inmates. After the Second World War, it was administered by the Allies to house Nazi war criminals after the Nuremberg Trials -- the seven which had escaped the death penalty.

Ultimately, Spandau Prison itself could not escape its association with its Nazi past. Erased.

La Boqueria

2011-02-01T17:45:00.000-08:00

I make it a point to visit a European market place every chance I get. Obviously in larger cities, there are often more than one. Barcelona's most popular market is the market of Saint Joseph, or La Boqueria.

My first impression was this has to be one of the Europe's busiest living monuments. Its interesting 19th century architecture, a structure of glass and iron, creates an environment in which one knows he or she can find just about anything. Or at least wander, loiter and enjoy trying.

La Boqueria is situated halfway between Plaza Cataluyna, Barcelona's main travel hub, and its port. The massive amounts of fresh seafood are just a pronouncement of locale -- this is Spain and the Mediterranean is close. Today's catch abounds -- partake. It is also located along the pedestrian corridor, Las Ramblas, where one can witness a variety of shops, to include street performers. For tourists.

The uniqueness of La Boqueria is while most locals seem to avoid the tourist-oriented Las Ramblas, they frequent La Boqueria. This is an authentic, functional market with side and back alley entrances. Convenient, essential, fascinating.

This is another European market one should not miss. It truly is a separate world unto itself.

More El Tubo Graffito

2011-01-15T16:55:00.000-08:00

From El Tubo -- Zaragoza, Spain.

Bulgaria's National Revival

2011-01-01T16:05:00.000-08:00

Plovdiv, Bulgaria, is one of my favorite European cities. Allegedly founded by Phillip II (Alexander the Great's father), it exhibits various Thracian, Roman and Byzantine influences. For the first time American tourist, expecting perhaps a Soviet or Warsaw Pact influence, it is readily apparent Plovdiv -- and Bulgaria as a whole -- has managed to remain relatively intact and preserved its unique culture throughout the ebb and flow of Europe's power struggles.

Uniquely, Plovdiv is a showcase for Bulgaria's National Revival, also referred to as the Bulgarian Renaissance, a period of socioeconomic development and national integration while the Bulgarians persevered under Ottoman rule. During this period, Bulgarian literature fueled Bulgaria's struggle for independence, an autonomous Christian church and an armed uprising in April 1876. The revival also found expression in a unique architectural style which can still be observed in Plovdiv and several other Bulgarian towns -- Koprivshtitsa, Veliko Tarnovo.

The national revival is generally accepted to have started with a historical book, written by a Bulgarian monk in 1762, and it culminated with the Liberation of Bulgaria as a result of the Russo-Turkish War of 1877-78. The Paris Peace Treaty, concluded at the end of the Crimean War (1853-56), had obliged the Ottoman Empire to grant Christians equal rights with Muslims. Over time, as insurrections mounted, the continuing oppression of Christians in the Ottoman Empire captured European public attention. So there is a remnant of Russian influence -- it was the Russians who reacted with military force at a key moment in this country's history, enabling Bulgarian freedom from Ottoman domination. In this case, thanks for your assistance, Tsar Nicholas II.

As often is the case, the rise of Bulgarian nationalism erased most of the visible traces of Ottoman occupation. A solitary mosque survived demolition in Sofia, though a mosque and a Turkish bathhouse still accent old town Plovdiv. Soviet domination never was an occupation -- Bulgaria was simply part of an allied buffer against capitalist Europe and the North Atlantic Treaty Organization. Although the Soviets extracted wealth over time from its alliance partners, Bulgaria, and cities such as Plovdiv, never lost their true cultural identities -- or democratic tradition.

Mount Testaccio

2010-12-15T17:30:00.000-08:00

Mount Testaccio is not just another mount, as mounts go. It was manmade by the Romans. Did Rome really need another hill?

The answer is quite practical. In the first two centuries AD, Rome was faced with the disposal of hundreds of millions of empty pottery jugs -- amphorae transporting olive oil to Rome. Rome's answer was an amphorae hill -- an artificial mound made of discarded olive oil jars. Its name is derived from a neighborhood just inside the southern part of Rome's Aurelian Wall.

Mount Testaccio, literally, is a large mound of broken pottery from a common area in southern Spain (ancient Baetica). Back then Spain was the largest producer of olive oil in the world, exporting two types -- one edible, one not. We can guess the edible part. The inedible oils lit Rome. Oil lamps were ubiquitous in public and private buildings and on the streets. In some periods of the empire, building owners were required to provide the latter. Inedible oils, often mixed with scent, were also used for bathing. In public baths and gymnasia, oils were rubbed in and then scraped off the body with a curved utensils to remove soil and dust.

Mount Testaccio is well worth a stroll. Find a piece of amphora with a maker's mark. It more than likely will be at least 1800 years old.

Galileo's Finger

2010-12-01T13:55:00.000-08:00

Most visitors to Florence, Italy, visit the standard sites -- the Cathedral, Michelangelo's David or the Ponte Vecchio.

But only true geeks drag their friends and family through the History of Science Museum. It is filled with a wide range of scientific instruments from the 17th, 18th and 19th centuries. Here reside Galileo's telescope, microscope and compass; his official portrait and a vast collection of obstetric models, amongst other things. I'll avoid getting graphic but some of the exhibits were rather intense.

But I was quite surprised to stumble across Galileo Galilei's right middle finger. Mummified and prominently displayed. Now I know that relics of saints are common in Catholicism -- portions of bone or finger displayed near alters, for instance. I could not help wonder if there is any connection between the fact the Roman Catholic Church forced him to recant his heliocentristic pronouncement and this display. Ultimately, the Roman Inquisition forced him to spend the last years of his life under house arrest.

Is this a last act of defiance? Or is the middle finger simply heliocentric to the hand?

Vajdahunyad Castle

2010-11-15T16:25:00.000-08:00

As is often the case, the origins of a landmark defy observation. I encountered Vajdahunyad Castle in City Park, Budapest, Hungary, and it appeared well-placed and historical. But the true story behind this structure is it was originally constructed from wood and cardboard for a millennial exhibition in 1896. Its success at the exhibition and its increasing popularity resulted in its reconstruction in stone and brick.

Further, it is a reasonable copy of a castle in Transylvania, Romania, also called Vajdahunyad.

Thai Street Food

2010-11-01T18:30:00.000-07:00

Wander Bangkok's streets and you'll experience many things. A full range of sights, sounds, smells. Some rather exotic. Some quite organic. And most sidewalks are populated with vendors peddling a range of foods.

Hey, I've got an idea, let's take time for a quick snack. But hang on here for just a sec. I see insects, spiders, bugs. Everywhere.

Yes, you read correctly. As food. Thais seemingly have developed quite a taste for bugs. I could see what appeared to be steamed or fried water scorpions, diving beetles. Big ones. Grasshoppers, cicadas, crickets. Spiders, scorpions. Rather large larva. Young beetles, I presume. Seasoned. Some with garlic. Accompanied by sticky rice or fried rice. Garnished. No, not ant eggs. Yes. Ala carte. Or, in rice, mixed with other stuff. Perfect. Delicacies. Rich in protein, calories, vitamins and minerals.

I'd say grasshopper tastes like roasted peanut.

First Time Bangkok

2010-10-15T17:35:00.000-07:00

There are a whole bunch of people in Bangkok. Locals and tourists. Without doubt, it is Asia’s dominant tourist hot-spot. And by sheer numbers, it must be in the top tier of the world’s most visited destinations. It is also a large air hub, meaning that it’s the region's major tourist gateway. I spent a few days there as a transient while I worked my visa to Vietnam -- a common practice.

Allow me to briefly mention the negatives, for they’re unavoidable. Bangkok’s reputation is famously soiled by its seedier side, even though prostitution is technically illegal there. Rocker Billy Idol’s three-week, $250,000 excursion into hedonism dramatically ended with his forced ejection from Bangkok, carried out by the Thai Army. Addicted to lust, he had refused to vacate his hotel penthouse at the end of his reservation. The good news is that even in Bangkok, there are limits. The other bad news is that Bangkok’s traffic is horrendous. Air and water pollution are major issues -- the water table has also been depleted. Droughts are common. Filth.

Yet, Bangkok is an alluring paradox. It’s perhaps the Orient's most cosmopolitan city; but it seemingly has preserved its cultural heritage. Its urban pace is somewhat relaxed, despite its 20 million-plus population and congested traffic. Religion does not appear to have an influential role in the capital; but one can observe monks walking neighborhoods, collecting alms. I did. And Buddhist temples are scattered throughout the city.

Although this was my first brief introduction to Thai culture, I quickly learned that for Thais, the head is sacred and the foot is foul. Don't point with your foot. Don’t ever step over a person or food. I was advised to never touch anyone on the head, even a child; do not pat people on the back or shoulders; always give up your seat on a bus or train to a monk who is standing; never walk in front of praying Thais in a temple; and beckoning is done with the palm down, fingers waved toward the body. Okay, what else? Are such stark cultural differences captivating?

I read Herman Hesse’s Siddhartha (1922) and Steppenwolf (1927) in school. Hesse’s literary works reveal his fascination with India, Buddhism and an individual's search for spirituality outside of society. Gautama Siddhartha (563-483 BC), The Buddha or the Awakened One, certainly had influenced Hesse's life and writings. As achieving Nirvana is esoteric, cloistered or removed, I expected to find Buddha's influence on Thai culture to be relatively subtle. Thailand has traditionally been characterized by its tolerance for alien religions. I'd expect it to be there, but where? Seek and find. Was this my academic preparation for Bangkok?

What is interesting is that Thailand's religious diversity is literally nonexistent. Roughly 95 percent of the population observes the oldest surviving form of Buddhism (Theravāda, founded in India). The remaining four percent of the population is Muslim, with a fractional mix of other religions, to include Christianity. Therefore, Buddhism permeates Thai culture and its temples are key social and educational institutions -- functioning as school, hospital, dispensary, hostelry, employment and community center. Although there were tourists present, the temples I visited were alive with various locally-oriented activities. Its traditionally high literacy rate, particularly before universal education, was obviously due to temple education.

Adherents to the Theravāda school consider themselves followers of the form closest to Buddhism as it was originally practiced. The spiritual liberation of the individual is its primary focus. Pursuit of the law of Karma. Individuals are considered responsible for their own actions and destiny -- everyone has a specific place. Undertake meritorious acts, avoid those which earn demerits. Cause and effect. Perform this role with a minimum of fuss and hassle. Failure to do so involves a loss of personal dignity -- loss of face. Thais often employ the phrase "never mind or no worries" (mâi pen rai), as a reminder not to risk opposing that which should not be opposed. Find your place, stay there, perform. Lock step.

At some point in their lives, Thai males are expected to train as Buddhist monks. It is a prerequisite for many leadership positions within Thai communities. Likewise, temporary ordination is the norm. The Thai government even allows its civil servants to take fully paid leave to train as monks for three months. And most do at some point -- whether it is for a single rainy season (phansa in Thai) or a few years. During the annual rains, all monks fore go travel and cloister in monasteries. And after this period, most young monks return to lay life, marry and begin families. Young Thai men who reach monastic ordination are viewed as more suitable marriage partners. As a matter of fact, those ordained are referred to as "cooked;" the un-ordained are called "raw." It is as if social position is the result of nurtured karma, not personal achievement. Learn, practice. Here, Siddharthas abound.

Perhaps I had discovered a parallel irresistibility to this place, in the tradition of Hesse -- hopefully for the right reasons. Though I had a basic academic understanding of Buddhism, I think that I had stumbled upon a more practical Buddha. Buddhism's strength in Thailand is linked to the fact that practically all Thai families have at least one ordained male member; its popular form also incorporates elements of Brahmanism, animism, and ancestor worship. What is learned outside of society is carefully integrated within society.

I have to remind myself often that the real lessons in life happen outside the classroom. Academia is static and sterile.

Oh, and the shopping was good.

B-52 Lake, Hanoi

2010-10-01T16:15:00.000-07:00

I have recurring visions of the few weeks I spent in Vietnam a few years ago. One is of an an ordinary Hanoi neighborhood, in which there is a small pond. In this pond rest the remnants of a B-52D downed on December 19, 1972. Callsign, Rose 1.

Operation Linebacker II, conducted over 11 days in December 1972 against Communist targets in North Vietnam, was the largest aerial bombardment conducted by the United States Air Force since the end of the Second World War. The entire crew of Rose 1 survived the shootdown and were confined in the infamous Hanoi Hilton (Hoa Lo Prison). They were repatriated. Rose 1 remains -- silent, rusting.

There is little doubt war is one man's of the most destructive activities -- if not the most destructive. Curious, I had to query a willing local on his or her view of America, the belligerent. As I was bartering with a local merchant, his English was good and he seemed more than willing to chat. So I asked him what he thought of Americans. "I do not like America but I like your money."

We tried to change the course of Vietnamese politics with military force, ignoring a thousand years of history and the failure of French colonialism. At what cost? As I drifted through Hanoi's streets, markets, I began to believe it will be market economics, as opposed to military force, that will define both Vietnam's and America's futures.

Graffito, Hanoi

2010-09-16T16:05:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure I'd classify the street stencils which decorate the flat surfaces in Hanoi as graffito. They are commercial signage for a full range of services -- laborers, goods, and who knows what else. Tight, compact, everywhere. Some places more than others. They must work, given their abundance and seeming permance. Or is it an indication of desperation? There seemed to be no sign of attempts to cover or hide anew.

Whatever the cause, they are a part of Hanoi's street life. I observed absolutely no other attempts to mark, deface, express. This is a regime-driven society. Communism -- everyone obey, follow.

Okay, commercial graffito. Allowed.

Hanoi's Mannequins

2010-09-15T23:45:00.000-07:00

I spent most of my three days in Hanoi within its historic quarter. The street life was very diverse, busy and colorful. People standing, walking. Selling. Squat and have a Coke.

But what seemed a bit out of place were the mannequins. In very modern clothes stores, encased in French colonial buildings. Dilapidated façades. Inside, an over population of adolescent mannequins. Silent chaperons. Distant stares.

Orphaned, begging one to come in. Take us with you. Please.
Surreal. Haunting.

Of Dog and Scooters

2010-09-10T19:40:00.000-07:00

The week I spent in Hanoi was anything but what I expected. I had a robust collection of mental images, having grown up watching the CBS Evening news throughout the 1960's and early 70's; I had been strongly impacted by the battlefield death of a young man who attended our church -- I knew his sister and I listened to the numerous adult conversations that erupted at the crest of the tragic news and continued for months after his solemn return and internment; the "Peace Movement" swirled all around me -- in class, in popular culture; from my bike, I literally watched B-52s methodically launch for points west (we lived near an active Air Force base); one of my good friend's brothers spent a tour near Đà Nẵng as a "military" water ski instructor at an officers' club; I certainly was familiar with the anti-communist rhetoric that flooded the American landscape during the duration of the Cold War; I watched the Second Indochina War (1959-1975) bring down President Johnson and torture Richard Nixon; and I had a draft card in my wallet -- I was eligible for and followed the last two draft lotteries with increasingly keen anticipation. So watching the movie "Apocalypse Now" was akin to sensing my cerebral concrete set. The horror.

What was missing, however, was an awareness of Vietnam's long history. Bordered by China to the north, it had broken away in the 10th century and flourished more or less until it was colonized by the French in the mid-19th century. Efforts to resist French domination and then Japanese occupation culminated with Japan's collapse and the failure of France's effort to restore its colonial empire. In a way, America slipped into this Southeast Asian vacuum as it tried to mitigate the post-Second World War collapse of Britain and the emergence of China and the Soviet Union. Divided now into two countries (Geneva Conference, 1954), Vietnam erupted into an ideological civil war -- the Viet Minh in the north backed by the Chinese and Soviets; the United States supporting the South's struggle against the North's communist insurgency.

Upon my arrival, I could see out to the Red River to the northeast as I looked across Hanoi from my 20th floor hotel room window. The French influence in old town was prominent -- from the tree-lined boulevards to prominent French colonial buildings and residences. I later learned that Hanoi was host to the first western universities in Indochina -- a university, a medical school and a school of fine art, established in the first two decades of the 20th century. On the streets below, Vietnamese commerce appeared robust, with individuals (mostly women) coming and going, carrying or pushing sacks or parcels, large and small, on flatbed bicycle or tricycle -- and a few with equal loads hung at the opposing ends of shoulder-borne poles, balanced.

I therefore had to explore a street market next to the hotel -- it appeared full of strange and exotic items, goods such as traditional clothing and hats, hammocks, knives, slippers, tropical fruits. Or at least that is what I thought they were. The smell was sweetly foreign, hinting of dried fruits and candies -- perhaps intertwined with an occasional air of candle or incense or perfume. I browsed, pondered and poked. I also tried to do a bit of mental math as I converted đồng to dollars, dollars to đồng -- without appearing to use my fingers or lip-sink the final result.

As I ventured further into this side street market, the environment turned organic. Aha -- I'm moving from the clothing and knickknack section into the food section. It was at this point that my senses went on the alert. Battle stations. I noticed a trough in the middle of what was now a v-shaped walkway. I was following this trough and I could see increasing moisture ahead. Drainage was seeping from both sides. Forward and to my right, there were live chickens and rabbits, caged. Let's have a look, shall we? No worries -- I had a tin of Altoids in my pocket which could overpower any offensive odor. A few steps and 30 seconds later, I saw a chicken selected, dispatched, de-feathered, wrapped and whisked away for dinner. Yikes! In slow motion, a hose flushed remnants towards me.

I touched my Altoid tin -- and reminded myself to keep moving. I shifted into National Geographic mode -- snap a picture and go -- gawk at the results later. It did not take long for the smell to become overpowering. I stopped and released the "curiously strong" mints. One. Two. Three. "Further back in the mouth and exhale," I instructed myself. "Up through your nose -- mouth closed." I looked and saw dog -- the dog stand. Hot dog! Boiled dog, barbecued dog. Dog, dog, dog. Various sizes, various parts. Pieces here, pieces there. That's a tail, that's a snoot! I held my breath and rapidly stole several pictures -- then fled towards the light at the end of the market.Fast forward, please. Okay.

Further down the street, I found a side walk cafe next to a French colonial house-as-restaurant. Incredible food -- at least half of which I have no idea of what I was partaking. The shrimp were gigantic and fresh. Here, large fans blew a pleasing mist towards patrons to counter the 90-plus degree, 90-percent humidity. Beware the fish sauce, extremely organic. Noted, but late. Could I cleanse my mind or are those market images forever seared deep? I reminded myself that I was in a very colonial French area in old town Hanoi. A couple nearby was kissing. I relaxed into documentary mode. This time, I took many pictures -- and reassured myself, "Edit as I go. Enjoy. Forget. Relax. Breath." Dogs.

On a positive note, I immediately noticed that in Hanoi, if not most of Vietnam, scooters were everywhere. On the taxi ride from the airport to the hotel, I assessed that the scooter-to-car ratio had to be at least ten-to-one, if not more. Mind you, these were not full fledged motorcycles. These were bona fide scooters. Italian scooters -- relatives of those I'd seen throughout the Mediterranean. Now I am sure that there were others -- Japanese, Chinese, or who knows -- knockoffs or copies. What do we do with the fakers?

And every intersection seemingly duplicated the start of a motocross race. Cyclists revved their engines in anticipation of the imminent green light. Bikes were stacked ten, twenty, thirty deep. Men, women, boys and girls, sitting single, double -- with or without extra cargo -- running up their engines in anticipation. And most wore no protection -- no helmets, many flip flops. (I understand that now helmets in Vietnam are mandatory for those that scoot.) As I walked block-to-block, I was amazed at the mass of scooters zipping down streets. How can I count blue cars if there are no cars?

Fine, count blue scooters. The more I looked, the more I observed that there were predominantly two eras of scooter here on the road -- the old and the new. There were newer Honda, Yamaha, Suzuki scooters. But it also appeared that there were many Piaggio Vespas from the 1960s and 70s that were very much in use. And occasionally I spotted a Lambretta or two. What was this? The older bikes looked good and were apparently functional. Color now did not matter -- how could I get one back to the states? And at what cost?

Certainly, I could find a Vietnamese shop to find and restore a Vespa for me. Having instituted free market reforms in 1986, also know as Đổi Mới (renovation), Vietnam has provided a means for commerce with the West -- and for me to get me a 1960s era scooter. One local shop keeper told me that although he despised Americans, he liked our money. It was then that I realized that the loss of more than 50,000 American and upwards to three million Vietnamese souls would shroud Vietnamese and American relations for decades. If not for a millennium.

And the dogs? Scooter!

Spišský Hrad

2010-09-01T16:50:00.000-07:00

On a few occasions, I have found myself in very unique European rural settings -- settings which beckon thoughts of what life must have been like there centuries before. The presence of massive ruins enhance this phenomenon. And where did the population go which required such massive fortification?

Later, if I did not seize the opportunity and explore those ruins, they resurface in my day dreams. Spišský Hrad is one of those which demands my return, better equipped with both acoutrements and time.

Standing above the north eastern Slovak town Spišské Podhradie and the village of Žehra, is one of the largest castle sites in Central Europe. Built in the 12th century, it was a regional political, administrative, economic and cultural center owned by Hungarian royalty.

Originally a Romanesque fortification, it enclosed a Romanesque palace and a three nave Romanesque-Gothic basilica. The castle was doubled in size in the 14th century and completely rebuilt rebuilt in the 15th century; another Gothic chapel was added. The castle was deserted in early 18th century and burned down in 1780.

It has been in ruin since. Magnificently so.

Flea Market Sofia

2010-08-01T18:45:00.000-07:00

In an area in front of Sofia's Saint Alexander Nevsky Cathedral there is a daily flea market. It is quite a sight to behold.

Over the years I have become a devout attendee and shopper. Religious icons. Greek, Roman and Byzantine coins -- some real, some fake. Relics from the two world wars. If one looks closely, there certainly are a tremendous amount of left overs from a specific German u-boat. Fakes? Old cameras. Long forgotten utensils. And then there are Warsaw Pact era memorabilia. Uniforms, hats, medals, binoculars. Miniature bronze busts of Lenin, Stalin.

Fascinating, but buyer beware -- that must have been one large u-boat, with so much memorabilia left behind. In landlocked Sofia.

Plovdiv's Ancient Streets

2010-06-15T17:10:00.000-07:00

If you have had a chance to walk around an old European centrum, you've no doubt come across cobblestone. Or just stone, ancient streets. Stones which may have been laid hundreds of years ago. Yet here they lie. We walk, perhaps stumble. Our shoes may or may not accomodate such surfaces. But back then?

One must admit that there is a degree of charm to these surfaces. Quite utilitarian as well. To get to plumbing beneath, simply remove stone, fix, replace stone.

I have a theory.

Graffito, London

2010-06-01T19:00:00.000-07:00

Obviously inspired by Stanley Kubrick's "A Clockwork Orange."

Murzasichle's Wood Church

2010-05-30T15:10:00.000-07:00

This is a rural wooden church near Murzasichle, Poland.

Murzasichle is located in the south and has magnificent views of the High Tatra mountains.

Europe's Wooden Churches

2010-05-20T17:00:00.000-07:00

When one thinks of Europe's centuries-old churches, stone structures come to mind. Cathedrals, chapels. But certainly there was a time when wooden churches populated most of Europe. Perhaps their heyday was in the early Medieval period. However, some very unique examples still survive, albeit off the beaten path. In lesser known areas in Central and Eastern Europe.

If you've never had the privilege to see or step inside a one, the experience is quite unexpected. Darker. Seemingly older. Naturally, wood ages differently than stone. The old buildings literally talk as the wood expands and contracts -- snaps. Haunting, yet appealing. And these structures are shared across denominations. Roman Catholic, Greek or Russian Orthodox. Protestant.

One can imagine meticulously surveying extant examples in Finland, Russia, the Czech and Slovak Republics, Hungary, Romania and the Balkans.

Door, Bulgaria

2010-05-15T16:00:00.000-07:00

Doors, windows. Gates. All common. Some can be quite interesting. This one is apparently the entrance to a shoe shop in Hissar, Bulgaria.

Hissar is the site of an old Roman spa and resort in central Bulgaria, sacked by invaders from the north in the 3rd century AD. Recreation for the affluent, lost forever. Locals still haul away and consume its waters. Apparently for medicinal purposes.

Radar Ants

2010-05-10T16:40:00.000-07:00

I am still perplexed by the ants I encountered in the Amazon (Leticia, Colombia). There were large ant hills on the ground, perhaps as tall as six or eight feet -- massive. I could see trails of leaf cutting ants, ferrying their cargo here, there. But it was the ant nests suspended above ground which attracted my attention. For these ants seemingly could tell if someone or something was passing by. Scores of small ants would drop from their nests onto those unsuspecting -- often, me. And bite. Several times I stood motionless next to a nest in a tree. No dropping ants. If I put my hand out underneath the ants, they'd deploy en mass. Is this how they acquired food? Was it a defensive mechanism? How did they know I was there? Some form of perception, radar?

Over the years, I have tried to find some logical explanation. I'm still searching.

Piranha

2010-05-01T15:00:00.000-07:00

I was introduced to the piranha when I visited Leticia, Colombia. On the Amazon. I quickly discovered that my preconceived notions of the fabled carnivorous fish were quite askew. In an area where the borders of Brazil, Colombia and Peru connect, piranha are a popular food. The piranha is often caught and sold for food in local markets. And dried specimens are sold as souvenirs to tourists. Wait, I thought it was the other way around? We’re the food, right?

Is the piranha mystique then legend? It is rumored that local Amazons, to guarantee a good show for the an adventurous Teddy Roosevelt, while on a hunting trip, blocked off a portion of the Amazon river with nets and released hordes of starving piranhas. They then tossed a dismembered cow into the river, setting off a wild feeding frenzy. Cow, instantly skeletonized. Wait -- a well orchestrated show for a VIP? No, never.

Roosevelt declared the fish evil, and the media traveling with him quickly spread the news. Flesh eating fish. Your flesh, so don't slip. Hollywood, smiling.

Locals told me that they were not concerned about the piranha. Piranha nibble -- each other. Ouch, that was my fin. There are larger, more lethal dangers lurking in the Amazon. In the water. On land.

Buy a piranha souvenir. Okay.

Leticia's Market

2010-04-20T15:50:00.000-07:00

Markets define locales. My experience has been that if one wants to obtain an immediate feel for a place, walk its market. The market place in Leticia, Colombia, located on the bank of the Amazon, is no different. Except for the fact that a majority of its shoppers arrive by boat. This market place was obviously representative of the fruits of the Amazon -- fruits, vegetables and meats.

Leticia

2010-04-15T13:50:00.000-07:00

If you ever make it to Leticia, Colombia, you will feel as if you've traveled to one of the more remote destinations on Earth. Reachable only via a 2-hour commercial flight from Bogota (Aerorepublica), this tropical town is the gateway to virgin tropical rain forests and several indigenous Amazonian tribes. For me, my visit to Leticia was my personal "National Geographic" moment.

Given its locale, it is surprising that Leticia has a population of over 35,000 inhabitants. It sits on the northern bank of the Amazon River and is the capital city of the state of Amazonas. The Brazilian frontier and the neighboring town of Tabatinga are very close to the east; Peru begins on the opposite bank of the Amazon.

As a last vestige of civilization, Leticia obviously has an airport, as well as a hospital, several hotels and restaurants. Telephone and Internet service are surprisingly good. But beyond the city's borders, it is literally the law of the jungle.

If you need a taste of nature in its purest form, Leticia is an impressive destination.

Europe's Castles

2010-04-01T13:00:00.000-07:00

Neuschwanstein Castle must be one of Europe's most imposing castles. A a 19th-century palace located on a rugged Bavarian hill, it was commissioned by Ludwig II as a retreat and an homage to Richard Wagner, the King's inspiring muse. Oh, to have such a muse -- and such a retreat.

The good news is that there are thousands of similar structures, the homes and get-aways of Europe's vast nobility. Most are impossible to get inside, and the few that are accessible, some do not allow internal photography. Such as Neuschwanstein. Many more external views will follow.

Crab Island

2010-03-15T14:25:00.000-07:00

Cross the Destin, Florida, bridge anytime during the Spring through Fall and you will see Crab Island. Well, it's not an island and I don't think that there are any crabs there. Apparently at one point, according to local lore, it was a crab breeding ground. Today, Crab Island is an underwater boating and party spot located just to the North of Destin's bridge. The water is relatively shallow, mimicking a sunken island. This is where locals anchor their boats to spend the day frolicing -- snorkeling, swimming, playing catch. Local vendors service the crowd, often as large as 200 boats, via snack barges.

Holiday weekends are a little crazy on Crab Island. In fact, I've seen an episode on the TV show COPS dedicated to a holiday weekend at Crab Island. Enjoy but be careful.

Turkey's Lycian Way

2010-03-10T16:30:00.000-08:00

I have several friends and acquaintances who have transversed Turkey's Lycian Way. One of my friends, who is an amateur entomologist, spent a summer collecting insects along the trail and even discovered a new specie of ground beetle. But what caught my attention was the fact that The Sunday Times has listed the Lycian Way as one of the top ten walks in the world.

The Lycian Way is 500 km hiking trail which stretches from Fethiye to Antalya, around part of the coast of ancient Lycia. Let me think about this. I can wander along territory which was once the Lycian League -- the cities of Xanthos, Patara, Myra, Pinara, Tlos and Olympos and Phaselis?

Okay. The Lycian Way is now on my "to do list."

Saint Peter's Castle

2010-03-01T15:50:00.000-08:00

Asia Minor is home to an abundance of historic Medieval fortifications. The Castle of Saint Peter (Petronium), located in the southwestern Turkish city of Bodrum, is a prime example. Built by the Knights Hospitaller in response to the threat of invasion by the Seljuk Turks at the beginning of the 1400s, its location has been a fortified site since 1100 BC. It is also the probable site of the King of Caria's Palace of Mausolos.

As was a common practice of the period, marble columns and reliefs from the nearby ancient structures were used during the construction of the castle. Unfortunately this included materials from the Mausoleum of Maussollos, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Although a few sculptures from the mausoleum were integrated into the castle for decoration, which justify a visit, in less than a century and a half, all remaining portions of the mausoleum had been demolished, removed or used as a building materials.

Within the castle walls, each regional sub-group of the Order had its own tower, each with its own distinct style. Hundreds of coats of arms and unique marks are scattered throughout the fortification -- symbols signifying areas assigned for maintenance and defence. Sub-orders were responsible for manning these areas with sufficient numbers of their soldiers and knights.

For over a century Saint Peter's Castle was an important castle of the Order and it served as a fortified refuge for all Asia Minor's Christian community. Today, given Bodrum's hot summers and mild winters, it is a perfect refuge for the intrepid traveller.

Graffito, Belgium

2010-02-15T05:00:00.000-08:00

A couple nice examples of street art in Belgium.

I wonder if the red face in the upper left-hand corner is a self portrait of the artist?

Würstel Stand

2010-01-15T19:15:00.000-08:00

Street food in Vienna, Austria, is special. Würstel stands -- hot dogs. In the bun or not. I prefer würstel without the bun. Whole or sliced. With mustard. Sauer kraut, bread. Stand and eat. Then move on. Hits the spot.

Vang Stave Church

2010-01-01T18:00:00.000-08:00

The Vang Stave Church (Świątynia Wang), located in Karpacz in Poland's Karkonosze Mountains, was originally built in the Vang parish, Norway, around 1200. When the parish built a larger, more suitable church, it was sold and re-erected on the Continent in 1842. This structure is an 800-year old four-post single-nave stave wood church. Exquisite. Easily reached by car from Dresden, Prague or Wroclaw.

The Sign

2009-12-15T17:15:00.000-08:00

Signs are obviously everywhere. In Europe, there is a critical category of sign -- those which identify the nearest toilet, or the loo. (The origination of the term "loo" is quite an entire different and interesting discussion. Really.) And the public latrines are often not equiped to our standards; and often one must pay to use or buy sheets of toilet paper. If such paper is even available.

We do tend to take for granted the availability of rest room facilities in this country. Outside the US, a constant awareness of the nearest available water closet, and its state of cleanliness, can be crucial. Given the sudden change in diet and exposure to new strains of bacteria, which often accompanies foreign travel, such knowledge can save the intrepid traveler from quite the predicament.

Trust me, I know.

Vianočný Trh, Bratislava

2009-12-02T16:05:00.000-08:00

European Christmas markets have been ongoing for centuries. Bratislava's is relatively new, having emerged in the last decade. It's small, cozy and less commercial than larger affairs. There's merchandise. But it's the traditional Slovak food and drink that dominates Blava's Centrum and nurtures the festivities. Grilled meats, sausages. Kebabs. Lokse. Potato pancakes, filled with poppy-seed and sweet honey-wine. Or with goose liver, with cabbage. Môžu mať aj inú klobásu, pa prosím? Mňam, mňam!

Weihnachtsmärkte Wien

2009-12-01T13:15:00.000-08:00

Europe's Christmas markets are well worth experiencing. I'm tempted to list what I'd consider the best, say five or ten. But the more that I've pondered this approach, the more I am convinced that each is unique enough to simply to introduce you to certain locales.

Vienna's was my first. I noticed from a distance that its City Hall (Rathaus) was literally a giant Advent calendar, with corresponding numbered windows -- curtained. Beginning on the the 1st of December, the appropriate covering is removed, revealing a Christmas scene. This obviously continues until the 24th -- I could see the centrally located "24". I had to move in for a closer look. I discovered that this Christkindlmarkt is the larger, more commercial of Vienna's numerous Christmas markets.

Yes, there are more -- many more.

Vermont's Best Kept Secret

2009-11-15T23:45:00.000-08:00

I had never been a fan of country music. And I certainly did not expect to find any variation of it north of the Mason-Dixon Line. Out west in Bakersfield perhaps. Buck Owens and the Buckaroos. But in Vermont? New England, right?

That all changed in 2007 when I crossed paths with the Starline Rhythm Boys in Montpelier. By accident. A local band. They were separated from the crowd by a semi-cage -- ala Blues Brothers. Lead singer, lead guitarist and a bass playing, bass slappin' guy. Percussion redux. And my, oh my -- did these boys play. But they were playing for and with each other. I quickly realized that this was my first rockabilly lesson.

Rockabilly is one of the initial forms of rock and roll music, having emerged in the early 1950s -- a mixture of early rock and old school country music. It has also been influenced by blue grass, boogie woogie, rhythm and blues, swing. Even jazz. Feel, steal, adapt, play. Talk to me. Musically.

The Starline Rhythm Boys are one truly American musical act. Gritty, hard core -- with style. Great live music regardless of what it is called. Rockabilly? Honky Tonk? I think I'm now a fan.

King Cotton's Palace

2009-11-01T15:35:00.000-08:00

King Cotton, on Bay Street. A splendid reminder of Savannah's past.

Savannah’s Old Cotton Exchange Building (1887) has long been a symbol of the city’s once-dominate industry -- Savannah was built upon agriculture and slavery. By 1820, it was one of the larger cities in the fledgling United States; and it was developing into a preeminent seaport. Eventually, it became the leading cotton exporting seaport on the Atlantic, ranked second in the world. In its heyday, over 2,000,000 cotton bales a year moved through Savannah.

Cotton remained the principal export until the Civil War, comprising 80 percent of Savannah’s agricultural exports. Most pedestrians who now traverse Savannah's Bay and River Streets, and its old market square, are likely to be unaware that in the not too distant past, the world’s cotton prices were routinely haggled and set here. It's little wonder then the Old Cotton Exchange Building's Romanesque style led to it being dubbed “King Cotton’s Palace”.

In Savannah, there are many memories, most fading, succumbing to time. Slowly.

Red Bull's Hangar-7

2009-10-15T16:45:00.000-07:00

Across from the passenger terminal at Salzburg's airport sit two unique structures -- Hangar-7 and Hangar-8. A part of the Red Bull Energy Drink Empire. Here resides the Flying Bulls' collection of aircraft from the great eras of aviation. They are on display in Hangar-7. Their maintenance facility is Hangar-8.

A good portion of this historic and operational collection consists of a Douglas DC-6, Yugoslavia’s Air Force One, used by Marshal Tito; a North American B-25 Mitchell Bomber; a Chance Vought F4U-4 Corsair; a North American T-28 Trojan; an Alpha Jet; a Cessna CE 208 Caravan; and several different types of helicopters.

Hangar-7 is more than just architecturally pleasing aircraft hangar. It is shaped like a wing and its model had to pass a wind tunnel test prior to construction. Hangar-7 also houses an art gallery, meeting space for events, a restaurant and several bars, lounges and cafés. One of the lounges, the 360, is tucked into the ceiling of Hangar-7 and has a very transparent, glass floor. For me, it was quite an awkward sensation. And the restaurant, Ikarus, features top chefs from around the world who literally take over the kitchen for a month at a time.

When in Salzburg, Austria, don't miss a visit to Hangar-7.

Street Performers, Wien

2009-10-01T15:15:00.000-07:00

Vienna's street performers can be quite entertaining. On a typical day, rows of silver or gold Victorian statue performers decorate Stephansplatz. Puppet, magic shows, break dancers dispersed. Vying for attention. Timing their performances against each other. Some acts quite good, others a little cheesy. But every crowd acknowledged to have been the best. Tips, please. No pictures without compensation. Thank you.

Graffito, Warszawa

2009-09-20T17:05:00.000-07:00

Street art, despite its critics, is a product of refined intellect, combined with skilled execution. Social commentary. Street art demands detailed planning, speed. No rules. Despite its quality, Spain does not have a lock on street art. Check out a couple of examples from Warsaw, Poland.

The Orloj

2009-09-15T19:05:00.000-07:00

Prague (Praha) is often referred to as the "Golden City" or the "City of a 100 Spires." Certainly, it is a city full of unique sites, from a range of eras. I was instantly drawn to the Gothic charm and prowess resident on both sides of the Vltava River, elegantly connected by Charles' Bridge. In particular, its clock tower is a sight to behold. Against historic odds, Prague has somehow been able to preserve certain exquisite examples of its medieval past.

Prague’s Astronomical Clock (Pražský orloj) is one of these unique medieval survivors. A prominent feature of Prague’s old Centrum, a tower clock on the southern side of the Old Town Hall, it is one of the oldest of its kind. The first one appeared in Padua (1344), followed by second in Strasbourg (1354). And the Orloj is the oldest of those with functioning original clockworks -- most European Medieval tower clock mechanisms have been replaced with modern clockworks. Electric. Not only has the Orloj's clockworks functioned for over 600 years, the astronomical dial, shaped in the form of an astrolabe, survives in its original form.

Prague’s Tower Clock is composed of three parts -- the first being the astronomical dial (1410), representing various astronomical details such as the Sun and the Moon. Originally, this was a monument to the science of astronomy -- it was meant to mirror the movement of celestial bodies. Two nearby sundials, removed in 1911, were used to crosscheck the sun's actual position with the dial. Added later in several stages, beginning in the later part of the 15th century, are an hourly clockwork parade of various sculptures, to include the Apostles; and a calendar dial. The lone tower housing the Orloj was erected in 1381.

There are many legends surrounding the Orloj. One declares that the Skeleton sculpture possesses fortune-telling powers. It is said that if the clock is left damaged for too long, hard times will fall upon the Czechs. And if a young man and woman witness the clock striking on the hour together, they are destined to marry. The more prominent legend centers on the Orloj’s original master clockmaker. Generations have passed on a tale which vividly describes how the city fathers gouged out the clockmaker's eyes with a hot poker. So jealous were they of the Orloj, they were hard set to prevent him from building another clock tower masterpiece in a rival city. In retaliation, the clockmaker's apprentice led his blind mentor to the clock, who then damaged his creation beyond repair. Those who later tried to fix it were said to have either gone wildly mad or died. Tragically. Cursed.

In reality, the clock was simply not very reliable. The Orloj has stopped working many times throughout the centuries, whether due to damage or neglect, the lack of competent technical skill or funds to conduct repairs. And the Orloj suffered heavy damage during the Prague Uprising (May 1945). German forces unleashed an artillery barrage upon the old city square -- the Old Town Hall and nearby buildings burned along with the Orloj’s wooden sculptures and the calendar dial face. By 1948, the clock was repaired, functioning again, with the wooden Apostles restored. Amen.

Prague has repeatedly managed to save its clock tower.

The Boxer

2009-09-01T19:35:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure if it is still there, but the Boxer used to be in Berlin's Altes Museum. (Museums do that -- loan, borrow. Reinvent exhibits.) It is a life-size bronze portrait of an ancient prize fighter, a Hellenistic statue from the first century BC. This statue, one of two, is thought to have been a part of the furnishings of Constantine’s spas. Rome was enthralled with Greek art.

The portraiture's realism suggests that it is in fact a particular boxer, with his broken nose and unique scars highlighted in copper. One can see his exhaustion -- the swelling face, the wrappings on his bloody hands. Victorious, but at what price?

His fingers are also worn -- rubbed. Marked forever by countless passers-by. In antiquity, they had to have known of him. Or that for which he symbolized. Strength and honor.

Nameless today, yet still admired. Hollow immortality.

Bulgarian Sling Shot

2009-08-15T18:15:00.000-07:00

I could not have predicted what I witnessed on my first visit to the Black Sea. This is a former Warsaw Pact country? To the side preconceived notions. Thanks propaganda.

Slanchev Bryag (Sunny Beach) is a resort area just south of Varna, north of Bourgas, on the Black Sea. Bulgaria. It is a natural harbor area where Roman Legionaries retired after their 20-year term of service during the first century AD. History there reaches back in time. Pushes forward. Thracian, Greek, Roman, Byzantine, Ottoman, Bulgarian Renaissance impressions everywhere. Communist influence fleeting, gone. No trace. Anomaly.

Sunny Beach is now a resort with over a hundred hotels. Western Europeans flock there due to the excellent climate and holiday environment. It is also very inexpensive.

So I'll start here. A giant sling shot. Also known as a reverse bungee. I watched countless tourists pay to get strapped in and catapulted into the sky. Unsuspecting. The removal of shoes, jewelry, the emptying of pockets should have been preparatory clues. Launch and blood curdling screams. Were they not paying attention? I was. The horror. The amusement.

Ägyptisches Museum

2009-08-01T18:15:00.000-07:00

The Egyptian Museum of Berlin (Ägyptisches Museum und Papyrussammlung) is home to one of the world's most important collections of Ancient Egyptian artifacts. The museum originated with the royal art collection of Prussian kings and the first objects were brought to Berlin in 1828 under Friedrich Wilhelm III.

My first visit to the museum was breathtaking. I experienced ancient Egyptian culture as I could not have imagined. I browsed through ancient sculptures, busts, masks, mummies. Human and animal. And common, everday personal items. Used eons ago. Combs, brushes, mirrors, jewelry, toys. I gazed upon the face of Nefertiti and was not distracted by the single eye. I contemplated Julius Ceasar's brow. And I strolled through the endless scrolls and hieroglyphs of the Egyptian underworld.

These were real people with sophisticated accoutrements. Thousands of years ago. This was not the beginnings of civilization, this is civilization. Evolution or de-evolution. I had to re-evaluate my historical paradigms.

I've heard that this portion of the museum in now closed. I hope this is not the case. Or at least it has been relocated and open to the public somewhere else.

Pulpo!

2009-07-15T16:05:00.000-07:00

You can't miss the seafood in Spain. Not just as tapa, but dishes on the main menu -- or fresh catch in public markets. Everywhere. I saw, partook.

Okay, let me see -- a variety of fish, lobster, crab, shellfish. Squid. Octopus. Fried little ones, filleted large ones. Grilled, diced, seasoned, sautéed.

To very little surprise then did I hear of a renowned Spanish seafood festival. After all, my discoveries in Spain of the offerings of fresh seafood entice me to declare it as "the best in Europe", though I have much more of Europe to experience. Euphoria does influence one's judgment.

Octopus in salsa. Pulpo!

Ishtar's Gate

2009-07-01T13:30:00.000-07:00

In addition to the Pergamon Alter, Berlin's Pergamonmuseum houses a reconstruction of the Ishtar Gate, rebuilt from excavated materials (1899-1914). Several prominent museums around the world have remnants of the gate, mainly the glazed-brick reliefs. Archaeological diaspora.

Originally erected during the reign of Nebuchadnezzar II (604-562 BC), it is the eighth gate to the Babylon's inner city. Through this gate ran Babylon's Processional Way, leading to a seven-story ziggurat. The Processional is also recreated here, with friezes of the Lion of Ishtar, the Bull of Adad, the Dragon of Marduk. No doubt, the prophet Daniel and his fellow countrymen at some point walked through Ishtar's Gate during their period of exile (597-538 BC). For it was this King Nebuchadnezzar who sacked Jerusalem, destroyed its temple and carried away Judah's more prominent citizens.

Dedicated to the goddess Ishtar, and being part of the Walls of Babylon, it was considered one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World -- until it was superseded by Alexandria's Lighthouse in the third century BC. What I did not know is that the Ishtar Gate was a double-gate. Before me stood the smaller frontal portion. The larger back was considered too massive for the museum and is in storage.

It is an amazing sight to behold.

Market Gate of Miletus

2009-06-15T15:55:00.000-07:00

This is one of the three grand exhibits at Berlin's Pergamonmuseum. It was transported piecemeal from its 19th century excavation site to Berlin and reassembled. Displayed. At least partially abducted. The main collection of town's artifacts appropriately reside in the Miletus Museum in Didim, Aydın -- Turkey's Aegean region. (Miletus was one of the 12 Ionian cities of Asia Minor; an important regional harbor. Now grossly silted, reset centuries ago, several miles inland.)

Here, again in Berlin, the Bible and history meet. The Apostle Paul met with the elders of the Church of Ephesus at Miletus in 57 AD (Acts 20:15-38). Yes, another one of Revelations' Seven Churches. Later, Paul left Trophimus, one of his travelling companions, at Miletus due to illness (2 Timothy 4:20). It is generally assumed that Paul transited Miletus at least one more time, perhaps as late as 66 AD. Miletus had to have hosted an emerging Christian community. After all, Paul was a decent missionary.

Can one then assume that he passed through this gate to shop or browse the market? Or proselytize? Oh yes.

Pergamonmuseum

2009-06-01T18:15:00.000-07:00

Berlin is home to over 150 museums. Several prominent ones are located in an area often called Museum Island (Museumsinsel), the northern half of the Spreeinsel, a Spree River island in the city's center. There, the Pergamon Museum (Pergamonmuseum) houses reconstructed monumental buildings such as the Ishtar Gate (the eighth gate to the inner city of Babylon), the Market Gate of Miletus (one of ancient Ionia's most important ports) and the Pergamon Altar. These reconstructions consist of artifacts and materials excavated from their original sites.

As an aside, those places would really like their historic stuff back. Antiquities. Okay, back then they were weak and abused. Others were strong. They also pilfered and sold their own past, their heritage. But how do we undo that which was moved, taken, bought or stolen in the past? Open box, welcome contents. Thanks Pandora.

Built in the 2nd century BC, the Pergamon Altar is a magnificent structure thought to have been a part of a temple dedicated to Zues in Pergamon (now Bergama, Turkey). In antiquity, it is described as the "battle of the gods." Here, the goddesses Asteria and Phoebe, Hekate and Leto, appear; on a corner, Triton and Poseidon. Another frieze is reserved for the Olympians, where Hera guides the chariot of Zeus into battle. To the right is Herakles. Zeus then follows, followed by Athena and the war chariot of Ares. Eos, Helios and Selene wage war. Is this an ancient comic?
The temple and altar also appear to have been mentioned in the Book of Revelation, "... in Pergamos ... where Satan's Seat is ..." (Revelation 2:12-13). Satan's Seat.

What is this Berlin? Am I looking at real property described in one of St. John's revelations? The one directed at Pergamon's Christian congregation, one of seven archetypal churches? My mind raced through years of Sunday School lessons. Parables, prophecies. Apocalypse, final judgement. Stories. Whispers. Sleeping with one eye open. 666. History of biblical proportions, here. Oh my.

Gondolas

2009-05-15T18:30:00.000-07:00

Hear gondola, think Venice.

Venice is world famous for its gondolas. Today however, they are mostly used by tourists. Or for ceremonies -- funerals, weddings. Local Venetians prefer to travel by modern ferries along Venice's major canals and between the city's islands. Faster, more convenient.

Venice rests on an archipelago consisting of over 110 islands with 150 canals. All in a shallow lagoon. The islands on which the city is built are connected by hundreds of bridges. In Venice’s centrum, canals serve as roads. One’s choice is to walk via bridge or transit by gondola. Venice is Europe's largest car free urban area. Nice.

Brace yourself for the bad news. Venice has no sewage treatment facilities. Untreated waste is immediately dumped into Venice’s canals. I witnessed first hand. Literally, flush. Floaties, from individual buildings. Romantic. But the tide comes and goes. More flushing, whisking stuff away into coastal waters and points beyond.

I'm walking, thanks. Still worth a visit though. Caution.

Le Cours Saleya

2009-05-01T14:00:00.000-07:00

In Europe, one can find a public market in just about every village, town or city. Size does matter though when it comes to markets. The busy market in Nice, France, the Cours Saleya Flower Market, is no exception. Cours Saleya is a wonderful cornucopia of ripe produce, meats, nuts, spices, cheeses, breads and flowers. It is bordered by sidewalk cafés, souvenir, antique and art shops. Numerous streets, narrowly flanked by centuries-old pastel buildings, funnel locals and tourists into and out of the market.

The Cours Saleya is located at the heart of Nice's old town and it sits one block inland from the Quai des Etats-Unis, the renowned boulevard that parallels the vivid, blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea. Its present form and venue has been maintained for at least a century; and it has been the site of market activities since the Roman era. Cours Saleya opens early every day (6am-5pm) and it's a constant hive of activity, Tuesday through Sunday. On Mondays it transforms itself into a flea and antiques market.

On my first visit, I had to walk the entire market, end-to-end, just to get a grasp of its size and to assess if, when and how to shop Cours Saleya. My first impression was literally a blurred collage of market bustle. The aisles were a constant stream of locals and tourists. Yes, one can almost always pick out the tourists. Shuffling, gazing. Determined locals were squeezing in to size up goods -- touching, asking, selecting, paying. Vendors were pointing, explaining, weighing, calling for resupply. Children scattered about -- running, laughing, crying. Custodians sweeping, carrying away trash. Amongst the mix, Romas panhandling. Dogs barking. Produce and goods as far as I could see. Up close, I was particularly struck by the amount and variety of spices, peppers, and olives. And I could sense bartering, haggling -- intensifying as the day grew long.

At the far east end of the Cours Saleya, stands a large, impressive yellow house, the Palais Cais de Pierlas (1782). Address, No. 1. Although the building appears to be in disrepair, it seems quite fitting. For from here, looking out of his third floor window, Henri Matisse painted various views of the Baie des Anges. Therefore, the brilliant sights and sounds of Nice's market are most appropriate. And within the Palais's daylight shadows, the surrounding restaurants and cafés make a perfect vantage point from which to mentally paint imagines of Nice's strolling, shopping pedestrians.

At night, crowds take refuge in the ambiance of the Cours Saleya's numerous surrounding eateries. Day or night, the Cours Saleya is a relaxing, unique place to simply sit, chat. Sip cappuccino, espresso. Explore Nicois cuisine. It also beckons one to wander. Not just anywhere. Here.

Not all who wander are lost.

Romas

2009-04-25T18:00:00.000-07:00

If you travel to Central or Eastern Europe, you're bound to encounter the Romani. Though they are involved in a number of trades, family or clan teams work the streets in tourist areas -- begging, performing, selling.

Romas, or Gypsies, are a nomadic people originally from the Punjab region of India. They entered Europe early on in the Middle Ages, migrating through Persia, Asia Minor, and the Balkans. They were labeled "Gypsies" because Europeans mistakenly thought they were Egyptian. For centuries they've been treated as pariahs, weathering hardship, persecution, and genocide (Holocaust). And they generally appear to live in squalor.

One learns quickly not to reward Roma beggars -- a token given attracts a horde. A nuisance unwilling to leave empty handed. On the other hand, Roma merchandisers are at least amusing. They'll haggle a bit then move on for more peddling -- whether one buys or not. On this particular afternoon in Plovdiv, Bulgaria, our group was approached by two Romas, offering Rado watches for $5. Fakes, of course. Indulge us a bit, please -- $1? Okay, $2.

Mine ran for five minutes and then fell apart the next day.

Expected. Entertained.

Bulgarian Omen

2009-04-20T18:36:00.000-07:00

The ancient Romans believed that the eagle was a messenger of the gods -- eagle sightings and behavior were therefore considered omens. At Nessebar, Bulgaria, on the Black Sea, I encountered a similar omen. This one was delivered by a seagull. Good, bad? One of our Bulgarian hosts noted that it was a sign of good luck, mentioning something about his brother's marriage. I took it as strong direction to buy a new shirt.

Bulgarian Rail

2009-04-15T17:35:00.000-07:00

I have always had an affinity for travel by rail. Particularly in Europe. It's regular and the schedule is generally robust. Going from one place to another is calculated and there is time to sight see, relax, read. Or whatever. And it is generally inexpensive. Perhaps there is a degree of nostalgia attached. Grand tour. Or blame Hollywood.

The Orient Express.

Unfortunately, the original, running from Paris to Istanbul is long gone. Just imagine the possibilities of such a trip. And with the Channel Tunnel open, one could begin in London, train across to Paris. Eat, shop, see, converse. Then to points east -- Istanbul. Explore, discover. Return. There is a current Orient, but it runs overnight from Strasbourg to Vienna. Only. The original Orient was certainly replaced by more efficient commercial air. That said, the current European rail system is an excellent way to go from one destination to another. Anywhere.

For me, traveling by rail in the former Warsaw Pact had a special appeal. I had ridden the underground rail system in West Berlin which went unencumbered into the Eastern Sector. Miss your stop and you're now in a James Bond movie. Focus. My papers were in order. I got off at my appointed stop, survived. All told, it worked nicely.

Bulgaria was no exception.

These two engines or tanks, from different generations, are sitting in the rail yard at the Plovdiv Depot.

This is the routine Sofia-Plovdiv service, arriving in Plovdiv.

This is the Sofia-Slanchev Bryag (Sunny Beach Resort) Express which transits Plovdiv and Bourgas, preparing to depart the main Sophia Rail Station.

It is a shame that rail service in the United States is not as common or reliable. Or as cheap. Or that our lifestyle does not accommodate such a transportation system.
At what price?

Las Fallas

2009-04-01T18:05:00.000-07:00

Las Fallas has to be Spain’s noisiest festival -- and hotest. Every March, Valencia celebrates Saint Joseph, the patron saint of carpenters. History obviously ties this annual tradition to the work of artisans, reaching back to the Middle Ages. Beginnings obscured, tradition evolved. For here, Valencia designs and constructs rather large, satirical papier-mâché figures. She then parades them around and burns them ala funeral pyre. Accompanied by fireworks. Of course -- it's Spain and it's fiesta. Nothing short of spectacular. One big, loud torching.

Las Fallas is actually the culmination of a year-long process as neighborhoods organize, plan, select a theme, design, fund raise and construct their own unique falla. These groups compete against each other to attract the best artists, painters, sculptors -- who then produce quite elaborate, cartoonish and combustible sculptures. And some of these monuments may reach up to five stories high. Yes, they are adorned and stuffed with pyrotechnics. It is not unusual for Valencia and her surrounding communities to generate 500 falla per festival.

The days and nights of this festival are quite rowdy -- all forms of procession abound. Historical, religious, satirical. A barrage of fireworks are unleashed into the streets by random pedestrians of all ages. Or anonymously launched high. Nonstop. Restaurants overflow into the streets. Traditional foods are fried or cooked on the pavement -- sold. Sounds and aromas mix and swirl; come and go.

Las Fallas concludes at midnight on the 19th with “the burn” (cremà). It begins in outer areas and moves towards Valencia's centrum. The falla in the Plaça de l'Ajuntament are torched last. Explosions. Erupting fire. Heat. In open areas, narrow streets. In proximity of historic façades. Windows, street signs, power lines. Multitudes, crowds. Moving. Spectators, held back, react to the intensity of the flames. Firemen watch and spray, keeping structures wet to mitigate damage. Then on to the next anticipated bonfire. Tradition tempers safety.

Yikes. This is a party? Burn baby burn.

Zeughaus Berlin

2009-03-20T16:50:00.000-07:00

Originally planned as an artillery arsenal, Berlin's Zeughaus is the oldest surviving structure on the Unter den Linden (1695). The building was restored after sustaining heavy damage during the Battle of Berlin and reopened in 1952 as the Museum of German History. Since it was then in the German Democratic Republic, it presented German history from Communist point of view. Thanks Herr Marx. Today, it is the German Historical Museum (Deutsches Historisches Museum).

It also was the scene of one of the many Hitler assassination attempts. Accompanied by Göring, Himmler and Keitel, Adolf Hitler was due to be speak at the Heroes’ Memorial Day Ceremony (Heldengedenktag) at the armory. After his speech, he was to spend another 30 minutes inspecting captured Russian weapons, displayed within the courtyard. He had actually lingered past his allotted time the previous year. Colonel Freiherr von Gersdorff volunteered to conceal two bombs in his overcoat and shadow the Fürher, escorting him and his entourage into eternity. However, for some unknown reason, Hitler left the hall eight minutes after he arrived. Just try to predict the future. Fate, glaring.

Today is the 66th anniversary of the failed assassination attempt at Berlin's Zeughaus. One cannot "what if" history. Not allowed.

Nice Baroque building.

Más Graffito, El Tubo

2009-03-10T17:30:00.000-07:00

Zaragoza's graffiti, street art, is more than just writing on walls. Its artistic caliber and esoteric stature melds and compliments its urban environment. It fits. There are random echos of Dali, Goya, Miro, Picasso, Saura. The Spanish School, Cubism, Surrealism. The agony of war not so civil, inquisition. Man versus man. Man versus beast -- blurred. Reinterpreted.

Perhaps a good deal of the work is sanctioned or even commissioned. No doubt there are plenty of instances of decorating another's property without permission. But this is more than tagging, defacing. This is niche artwork which cries for legitimacy.

Yet, it simply cannot escape the canvas upon which it is placed -- and its fleeting nature. It appears, disappears. Obliviated. The next coat of whitewash or paint is inevitable.
Art crime. Lost.

Of Graffito

2009-03-05T01:15:00.000-08:00

If you could not tell, I give graffito, graffiti attention. Perhaps it is because of our ageless need to mark things -- with our names, our opinions, our angst. Who were these people and why did they etch? Stone, marked in time. Is it simple self promotion or something else? Boredom? Rebellion? Imagined immortality?

The example above is from the Chapel, King's College Cambridge. England. The internal stone is soft, easily scratched. Deep. In the dark, obscure corners, handwritting abounds. Names, dates. William, 1771. The penmanship confirms a specific point in time. We don't make our "Js" like that any more. For ages.

Stencil tags have recently become popular. Take your time creating the master pattern. The stencil is to the street artist as the printing press was to the author. Prince Charles. Monarchy, anarchy. Okay, I get the political satire, courtesy East Anglia. You're not a fan of the Royals. And you are spreading it far and wide. Tag and go. Unleash chaos.

This graffito is from Prague -- found under a modern bridge. This is typical modern graffiti -- words. A name. A singular message. A stylized technique -- ego with no future. Less than cheap. Follow the 'hood's piper. Good luck.

It is for this reason that I found Zaragoza's graffiti intriguing. What is really going on there? It is simply on a different plane, dimension. Artistic distortions of someone's reality. I want to understand. Spain.

March of the Big Heads

2009-03-02T18:50:00.000-08:00

Gigantes y cabezudos. Dudes wearing large masks. Typical icons of Spanish festivals. Witness a parade there, expect big heads. Each town tends to have its own version. Parading, mingling. Hide your babies.

I know this week in Valencia, Spain, Las Fallas is underway, culminating on the 19th. (It runs for the first 19 days of March.) It's literally a display of large sculptures -- waiting to be set on fire. Fireworks. Accompanied by and parading with the big heads.

Gigants unleashed. Por supuesto.

Bernd das Brot

2009-03-01T17:40:00.000-08:00

Meet Bernd das Brot. German children's TV star, talking loaf of bread. Philosophiser. If you've spent any time in Germany or nearby countries which air his show, you've likely seen Bernd. And thought, "what the hey?" I have. Too often.

Were you aware that Bernd was recently kidnapped from his permanent fixture in front of Erfurt's town hall, his hometown? Probably not. Horrific. Children cried. His kidnappers actually contacted the police. Demands? They were evicted squatters -- give us back our building or Mister Loaf gets it. Really. Bernd appeared on YouTube, sympathizing with his captors. Patty Hearst, Stockholm Syndrome. Stalemate. Standoff.

Fortunately for the children of Erfurt, a group of kids found Bernd in another abandoned building. As for the squatters' former home? Toast. Remodeled. Converted into office space, flats.

Bernd in der Hölle

2009-03-01T15:30:00.000-08:00

Bernd das Brot. Ich bin im ernst. Genau. Alles klar?

Graffiti, El Tubo

2009-02-28T21:25:00.000-08:00

The street art and graffiti in and around Zaragoza’s El Tubo struck me as more vibrant, alive. Dominating. Manipulating. Perhaps. Bajo la influencia de tapa.

Preface Zaragoza

2009-02-28T10:00:00.000-08:00

Festivals. Spanish cities, towns and villages have their own unique versions. Everyone knows of Pamplona and the Running of the Bulls. Picasso, Hemmingway. You’ve probably seen or heard of the town which has a huge food fight (tomatoes) in its main square. You are certainly familiar with the cities named Barcelona, Madrid, Valencia. But do you know of Zaragoza and its Festival of the Pillar? The instrument you hear is a "gaita de boto," a type of bagpipe from this region (Aragón). This is the beginning of an exploration of Zaragoza. Yes, this is a teaser.

Graffiti, Zaragoza

2009-02-27T16:45:00.000-08:00

The graffiti splashed throughout Zaragoza is evidence of the city's resident fringe. Creating in alleys, moving amongst the shadows. Invitations. Propaganda. Whispers. "Come closer, gaze or decipher." Street artists or vandals? ¿Decoración o devastación?

Cantilevered

2009-02-15T18:20:00.000-08:00

Sometimes we miss the obvious. I think I certainly did in this case. Ferris wheels. I've seen them, noted them, but have never been on one. Why? For me they are just big merry-go-rounds stood on end. Whoopee. Now there's a quite large one on the bank of the Thames, across the river from Parliament and Big Ben. The London Eye. It is pretty hard not to notice. But again, just a big, slow moving amusement ride -- for the weak kneed or enthralled romantics.

The original Ferris wheel was built for the World's Columbian Exposition in Chicago, Illinois (1893), to rival the main attraction of the 1889 Paris Exposition -- the Eiffel Tower. I've seen the Riesenrad (1897), a first generation observation or big wheel in Vienna's Prater (an amusement park). It's old and traditional and if I was going to spend money for an amusement ride, there's got to be a little speed involved. Employ unexpected g-forces, positive and negative -- you know the routine. Drop, turn, spin. Hold on, scream, wince or squeal. After all, I am part of the original Disney generation -- I've stood long enough in line for this thing, paid my dues, now entertain me -- just a little, please.

When it was built, the London Eye (also called the Millennium Wheel, since it was dedicated in December of 1999) was the tallest Ferris wheel in the world. It is now just the largest wheel in Europe, being surpassed by two newcomers in Asia. Because it is supported by a frame on a single side, it is also termed "the world's tallest cantilevered observation wheel." Cantilevered. What really caught my attention though was the fact that the wheel carries 32 sealed, air-conditioned passenger capsules attached to its external circumference -- pods. These Eye pods can hold up to 24 people -- communal habitats. That's upwards of nearly 800 podnaughts on board at any given time. Though seating is available, individuals are free to walk around inside the pod -- socialize. One revolution takes about 30 minutes, slow enough that that riders easily can walk on and off without the Eye ever stopping. And the London Eye is the second most popular place in Europe for "popping the question." The Eiffel Tower is first. No surprise -- popping the question is often a weak kneed affair.

The fare for a standard ride on the Eye is just £15.50 for adults and £7.75 for children. Private capsules can be had from £299 to £1200 -- with champagne of course. I'm sure that cost also encouraged me to be even more disinterested. And since Eye rides are considered "flights," tickets must be booked via British Airways. I'm not quite sure I completely understand -- but that's okay. The Eye, as all big wheels, exists to fulfill a single function -- to lift people up from the ground, take them round a giant loop in the sky, then put them back down where they started. In self-supporting habitat-bubble-things. With spectacular views. So simple, so clean. I just may have to give this cantilevered Eye a dawdling whirl.

Chippy

2009-02-15T16:00:00.000-08:00

"Chippy" is British slang for a local fish and chip shop. I lived, worked and went to school in England a couple of decades back and I quickly learned to endure the rather large que at our local chippy. It would only open for a couple of hours in the late afternoon on select days -- the fresh catch of fish was prepped, cooked and sold. Until depleted. Sorry, see you next time.

Legend has it that fried fish shops, spreading north from the south of England, merged with fried potato shops descending from Scotland. The fish is traditionally Atlantic Cod or Haddock, battered or breaded -- and the chips are slab cut potatoes. All deep fried. Simple, fresh, hot.

As with a lot of English fare, fish and chips became a standard staple with the working masses. The emergence of trawl fishing and rail transport in the second half of the nineteenth century allowed the North Sea's fresh catch to remain cheap. Mass distribution, then popularity. Chips may also have appeared at the same time -- first mentioned by Charles Dickens in his A Tale of Two Cities. Welcome the Industrial Revolution, Capitalism and their benefits (most frequently maligned). Yes, there are many ways in which labor is rewarded. In this case perhaps, symbolized by a bit of malt on one's blue collar.

I've never had better fish and chips, anywhere.

Zeughaus

2009-02-01T23:45:00.000-08:00

Graz. If this name sounds familiar, you must either have visited Austria’s second largest city or you know that Arnold Schwarzenegger is one of Graz’s more famous sons. Or perhaps you may recall that its football stadium was once named after him. Once. That was until the city's assembly condemned the California governor's refusal to grant clemency and halt the execution of a convicted murderer. Literally overnight, they had the large letters spelling his name pulled from the arena. Capital punishment is illegal in Austria. Am I sensing a degree of passion -- or testosterone? Governor Schwarzenegger subsequently returned by post the honorary ring the city had presented to him. Now, now.

For many other and better reasons, Graz is unique. Its old town is one of the best-preserved city centers in Europe -- it somehow avoided the mass destruction of Allied bombing raids during the Second World War. This is most fortunate since Graz had been the resident city of the younger Austrian line of the Habsburgs, beginning in the 14th century. They lived in Schloßberg castle and from there ruled Styria, Carinthia, portions of Italy and Slovenia. Later, Italian Renaissance artists and architects contributed to the city's planning and design. Located between Italy, the Balkan States, with Central Europe to the north, Graz over time absorbed various influences from these neighboring areas -- from Gothic to Modern.

Graz is situated in the Austrian federal state of Styria (Steiermark). The older German interpretation of the word mark literally refers to an area of land utilized as a defensive frontier. In these areas the local population was trained to organize and fight against invaders. Given its location, Graz was often assaulted -- by the Hungarians (1481) and the Ottoman Turks (1529, 1532). Unsuccessfully, mind you. In fact, its fortress was one of only two fortifications in the region which never fell to the Turks. The city also withstood two occupations by Napoleon's army (1797, 1809). Ironically, though the Austrian forces within Schloßberg were outnumbered and repelled numerous attacks by the French, their emperor, Francis I, ordered their surrender after Napoleon overwhelmed Vienna. Unfortunately, the Treaty of Schönbrunn (1809) imposed harsh terms on Austria, to include the destruction of Vienna’s and Graz’s fortifications. Schloßberg was demolished; though its Uhrturm clock tower was spared by ransom.

Naturally then, Graz is home to the region's provincial armory, the Landeszeughaus. The strategic importance of Graz required its armory to be a vital arsenal for the Habsburg Empire on its south-eastern flank. Completed in 1645, its Baroque entrance is guarded by Mars (god of war) and Minerva (goddess of war). The Landeszeughaus now houses an impressive collection of pikes, pistols, rifles, swords, coats of mail, and various forms of armor.

When I wandered through the Landeszeughaus, exploring the world's largest historical collection of Baroque weaponry, I literally stepped back in time. The armory consists of five floors, with different types of military hardware arranged by historical period. I was struck by the armory’s pristine state of preparedness -- it was as if it was still standing ready to outfit an entire medieval militia, mustering to oppose an imminent invasion. I also noticed that most of the armor appeared to have small battle scars or dents. A curator pointed out that they were not marks left by conflict, but were “tests” to insure the proper strength of the metal. Aha -- medieval armor making was an exacting life or death craft.

There are certain situations in which we must erase all doubt.

The Landeszeughaus also has a few of the last surviving sets of horse body armor. I was captivated. I had to touch, feel -- with the requisite protective gloves on, of course. But I could not stop there. Blades, swords. Several of the swords I handled, to include a long two-handed sword, or Zweihänder, were amazingly light to wield. The Zweihänder was apparently used by specialized swordsmen to reach beyond the front line spears, hewing through the difficult barriers which spearmen and pikemen presented. My mind drifted into visions of charging brigades, brandished swords, flanking cavalry -- the chaos of swift deadly thrusts, slices, cuts.

Brutal. Blood, sweat and tears.

I'm pleased that we've seemingly progressed. But I can't help but wonder if we've become oblivious to the cost of employing lethal force -- even in defense. Penetrating and blunt force trauma. Devastation -- pestilence occupies the ensuing void. Mortal combat has always been horrific. History becomes legend, then myth -- and we forget. But what if we're ignorant of history in the first place?

The Landeszeughaus is history.

Seat 96

2009-01-15T17:25:00.000-08:00

The Seat 96 I know (and occupied) is in a first class rail car which services Central Europe. Several years ago I had flown into Vienna and was en route to Prague. I had calculated it was cheaper for me to fly direct to Vienna (Wien) and then to train it to Prague (Praha), as opposed to flying into Prague via several other European air hubs. The cost was a simple extra 4-6 hours of travel time. No sweat. But what I had not calculated was the benefit of viewing the world at a relative distance from a rail car.

First, I chose Seat 96 since it was in an empty cabin with four seats. I could sleep unencumbered -- I had complete freedom to do whatever I chose. Is not freedom what we Americans are all about? Second, sitting in Seat 96, by the window, I could witness countless picturesque European urban-to-rural, rural-to-urban transitions, if I so chose. And I did. As a result, I witnessed a parade of countless villages, dominated by prominent church spires announcing their village squares.

What are these places? Who are the people living there?

Over time, as the rolling hills and villages passed, I realized I had transitioned from northeastern Austria into a region best know as Bohemia. Is this somehow tied to Bohemian Rhapsody? We abruptly stopped. The train was boarded by Czech immigration officials looking to validate passenger credentials as a result of the border crossing. As I was to discover later, they paid little attention to me, as a US passport holder. I was the least of their worries. Romas, or? In addition, they were about to lose their jobs as the European Union was on the verge of incorporating the Czech Republic into its domain. The Czech Republic was becoming a member state in a larger federal union, a process which would erase its traditional internal border controls. (The European Union's Schengen Area now allows the free movement of persons amongst signatory states.)

Was the Czech Republic and Austria then becoming something like bordering American states? California and Oregon? There would be no need for passport checks at the border -- immigration control would be strengthened at the European Union's external boundaries. Breaking news -- Europeans are now free to wander about, mingle. Oh my. But please don't forget to monitor the movement of fruits and vegetables.

Did we even notice? Our awareness of geography and the on goings in other countries, especially the subtle yet important shifts, is weak at best. I'm often asked how many kangaroos I saw the last time I was in Austria. And most of us stateside are uni-lingual. Immersing oneself in another culture can only be eye and mind opening. But it's also work.

More news, delayed. Gone is Czechoslovakia -- in 1992. It's the Czech and Slovak Republics. They split in what is termed the "Velvet Divorce", which speaks much to democracy -- but that's another subject. I felt the need to catch up. I scurried to read up on Central European history -- the Habsburgs, the Holy Roman Empire, the aftermaths of both world wars, particularly how the Allies reshaped the continent. Austrian neutrality. The Iron Curtain. The Prague Uprising of 1968. Okay, I'm slow.

I'm learning. The world is changing, as it always has. And I now take detailed notes -- from Seat 96.